


how you devoured me whole

by winluvr



Series: THIS IS OUR NEW RELIGION. [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Character Study, Demon x Priest AU, Introspection, M/M, Miya Atsumu is a hot priest, Mutual Pining, tender romance between a priest and a demon but make it sexy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:47:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26948470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winluvr/pseuds/winluvr
Summary: It feels almost as though Shinsuke had been born from his deepest desires. It’s almost as though wanting Shinsuke is second nature.Atsumu is a weak man in the presence of a being that is greater than him.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Kita Shinsuke
Series: THIS IS OUR NEW RELIGION. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1966375
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	how you devoured me whole

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. demon-priest atsukita concept is from saelove_0604 on twitter :) all credits to them  
> 2\. this was supposed to be part of a full-length 10k fic but i couldn't get some of the scenes done... so i will split it up into three or more fics

Light spills from the glazed window, where Shinsuke sits with his leg crossed atop the other, his back pressed against the glass. The pale orange light bends, covering Shinsuke’s face in partial shadow. Atsumu stands across from him, wiping a pew down with a piece of tissue paper and a spray bottle of alcohol. A child had left far too many crumbs for it to be left uncleaned. Shinsuke twirls his hair around his finger as he watches Atsumu. All the eyes in the world are watching him.

Shinsuke knows a beautiful boy when he sees one. Ah, what a shame Atsumu couldn’t kiss him the way he wanted. What a pity it is that he had to leave himself untouched before he came into the seminary and got ordained as a priest. Hyogo is too lucky to have him. A thousand worship songs could be dedicated to such a beautiful boy. A thousand frescoes could be painted in his image, a thousand altars could be erected in his honor. Shinsuke knows the world is not worthy of him.

Atsumu heeds him no attention, his back still turned toward Shinsuke as he moves toward the apse to collect the bible and chalice. With a sigh, Shinsuke flies toward him, his devil wings flitting behind him as he follows the pastor. He lifts a hand to touch him, thread his fingers through the course of his blonde hair. Even the way the devil moves is bewitching. Atsumu would need to have a different level of self-discipline to be able to say that this demonic creature is not beautiful.

“Father, it’s boring here. Why don’t ya pay attention to me?” Shinsuke ghosts his breath over Atsumu’s ear as he speaks. creeps his hand up Atsumu’s neck, crawling all the way up to the shell of his ear, tweaking his earlobe until he finally gets a reaction out of him. Atsumu flinches. “Yer sensitive here?”

Atsumu heaves a sigh as he turns around to face Shinsuke, his hands resting on his hips. He tugs on the collar of his white vestment to tighten it around his neck. “Why do ya keep hangin' around me like you don't have anything to do?” His eyes flash toward the entrance and spots an old woman praying in the last pew.  _ It’s nearly time to close up _ , he thinks. _It's nearly time to say goodbye._

The corners of Shinsuke’s mouth tug into a grin as he shifts in the light to reveal a more human form. Humanlike, but not quite humane. “There is somethin’ that I have to do, Father.” 

Atsumu folds his arms across his chest, the thin fabric of the vestment stretched taut against his arms. He does not miss the way Shinsuke’s eyes glaze over this, relishing in the heat of his holy presence. “And what might that be, if I may ask?”

“'S you. I want to do you, Father.” Shinsuke laughs loftily and fiddles with the long chain of the pectorale hanging around Atsumu’s neck. His fingers slide across Atsumu’s shoulder blade, cold, so  _ cold _ . Atsumu cannot help but flinch away from him. “I want ya to fuck me. Whatever floats yer boat.”

“This is a sin.” Shinsuke’s hands creep further up toward the line of Atsumu’s neck to his jaw, tracing the shape of his chin until he flinches. He pulls him closer and closer toward him, the warmth of his mouth thawing the cold of Atsumu’s body. Atsumu’s hands tremble as he tries to pull himself away from him. “This goes against the oath of chastity that I had taken.”

“Do not be afraid, Father.” Shinsuke laughs breezily before pressing a kiss along the square of Atsumu’s jaw. “I know you have been looking for Jesus, but I’m here. I’m here.”

Atsumu holds his hand out to steer Shinsuke’s hand from his face, pulling it away from his jaw. His palm pressed against the demon’s knuckles, his nails digging into his fist. His hand circles around the other’s own, enveloping it in the warmth of his touch. “Don't use the angels' words against me, demon.”

Any normal demon would have flinched at the priest’s words, but not Shinsuke. Shinsuke does not flinch, does not hiss an insult into Atsumu’s ear. Instead, he presses him to the wall, his legs slung around his waist. He tugs at his collar, fingers curled around the fabric, pulling Atsumu’s face closer and closer toward him. “I have long stopped caring what sins are. Since the day I died, I have always known sin feels good.”

Atsumu chokes out a protest, but Shinsuke does not bid him any attention. Instead, he strips Atsumu free from the stole wrapped around his neck, pressing his lips to the cross that is embroidered on the front. The liturgical band of cloth is set aside to the floor as Shinsuke starts to pry the buttons of his alb apart with one hand. “Being good is boring and sin feels so good, Father. I know. I’m tryin' to make ya feel the same.”

“Stop it,” Atsumu breathes out shakily. There is no trace of conviction in the words that come out of his mouth. There is no hint of certitude, not when his lip quivers as he speaks. A boy could only do so much in the presence of someone, in the company of  _ something  _ so beautiful. “Lord, have mercy.”

“Where’s your God now, Father? He won’t save ya from me.” Shinsuke closes his mouth around the area of Atsumu’s ear where he had just discovered is his most sensitive point. He watches as Atsumu shudders under his touch. He lets all of his weight press against the front of Atsumu’s pants where the fabric is bunched up. “Come here, Father. Play with me.”

Atsumu tries to tear his gaze away, tries to look away from the demonic creature that sits on top of his lap, all sharp eyes and wicked smile, but his treacherous eyes betray him. “I cannot do this. Don’t make me do something I’ll regret.”

“I’m gettin’ impatient, Father.” Shinsuke kisses the corner of his mouth, his fingers tugging against the fabric of his outer cassock, unravelling the vestment until it tumbles down to the floor. “Come on, please. Let me fulfill all yer fantasies.” Shinsuke knows that he is temptation, every boy’s deepest desires crammed into one body. He’s always been made of it. What’s the use of a good mouth and a wicked tongue like his if he won’t use it to devour kind souls like Atsumu’s own?

—

“No one else can see me, Father.” Shinsuke looks at him, all the wanting in the world dripping in his half-lidded eyes. “No worries, Father, no one else can see the way you touch me like you’ve been starving for years. I don’t want them to.” He preens when Atsumu swallows down the lump in his throat, looking up at him through the thickness of his lashes. “No one else can see me touch you. Do you want them to see?”

“Lord, have mercy on me.” Atsumu wills his hands, his hips to keep steady even in the presence of a demon. All-seeing, all beautiful. A demon must not be this beautiful. Shinsuke’s eyes could have been the shade of amber, the shade of the rosary slung around his neck, hanging down the lines of his chest. The demon’s eyes are always a different color every time Atsumu looks at him. Scarlet, the color of his carmine lined lips, the ruddy shade of the blush creeping up Atsumu’s neck and chest whenever he touches him. Gold in the light.

Shinsuke’s eyes turn black now. His eyes foxy, black as coal, black as a moonless night. The color of each and every one of Atsumu’s deepest, darkest dreams. Any other man would have taken one look into the demon’s eyes and found them cruel, macabre. But there’s nothing scathing about his gaze. No other man could have looked at the priest like that. “Lord, have mercy on us.” Everything about him sets him on fire. A prayer couldn’t save him still. No prayer could be enough.

“Pay attention to me, Father.” Shinsuke wraps his arms right around the back of Atsumu’s neck as his knees dig into the sedilia, his toned legs slung around each side of his hips. “I just want ya to touch me. Can’t you make a man happy?”

“You’re no man,” Atsumu hisses as Shinsuke tucks Atsumu’s head under his chin, his mouth pressed against his throat as Shinsuke arches his back, sitting on top of him. “Yer another one of those wretched creatures that the Lord must get rid of or so God help us all.” But both of them know his tone belies his words. Atsumu is a weak man in the presence of a being that is greater than him. Desperate, pliant under his hands.

Shinsuke finally settles his weight unto Atsumu’s lap, rolling his hips against him as the fabric forms a tent. “Yer getting hard from this, Father.” Shinsuke smirks down at Atsumu as he says this, his pupils blown wide with desire. “I don’t think ya want the Lord to get rid of me so soon. Might as well fuck me until I’m coming dry before he even gets the chance.”

Atsumu clasps his hands together to keep himself steady in his seat, his knees buckling under the demon’s provocative touch, his firm resolve crumbling under the litany of his name that the demon has begun reciting against his ear. “Demon, I command you to stop.” His breath comes out shaky. “Stop, I beg of you. This is not the time. This is against God’s will.”

“This isn’t the time for what, Father?” Shinsuke reaches from underneath him and palms Atsumu, his other hand kneading his inner thigh. “Don’t you think that it would be a better use of your time for you to touch me right here?” He licks a stripe across Atsumu’s jaw as he presses his thighs together under him. “Father, why don’t ya touch me right now than wasting your precious breath preaching to all these mindless sheep.”

“What are you doing to me,” Atsumu says, half-breathless as Shinsuke drags his long, black nails against the cotton of his cassock. It’s almost rough to tear the fabric around his thighs and almost vicious enough for Atsumu to bite his bottom lip. It feels _ good _ , and Shinsuke knows that Atsumu is too weak.

“I’m trying to make you feel good,” Shinsuke murmurs, his soft pink mouth pressed against Atsumu’s neck, his fingers raking through Atsumu’s hair, the gesture intimate, tender. Not befitting a cruel, banished creature like him. “I’m trying to get ya to give up. Give up, Father.” He smiles menacingly, a threat dangling on the corners of his lips. “Or do ya want ‘em to see how good I’m making you feel right here, right now?”

Atsumu flashes his glance toward the grandmothers sitting in their pews, the children receiving the sacramental host. “No,” he whispers. He shakes his head, if only the slightest of a movement as to not disturb the peace, the sacrament of the Eucharist. He watches as a young altarboy places the paten under a small child’s chin. “Not now, please. Not now.”

Shinsuke heeds him no attention, still. Instead, he continues stroking across the lines where his hips meet his thigh. “You have such beautiful thighs.” There is a look on Shinsuke’s face that is open, sincere as he says this. There is no trace of mockery. “You’ve got the body of an athlete, Father.”

Atsumu closes his eyes and holds his hands together, firmly, as though he is trying to convince himself. As though he is trying to rid himself of temptation, the same temptation that sits atop of him, begging him to consume him, begging him to succumb, to join him. He’s treading on dangerous waters.

Shinsuke looks at him, still, with a sense of admiration. “Did you play a sport in yer younger years? Volleyball, maybe?” Atsumu allows him a nod, tight-throated. “Ah, you have the thighs of someone who used to play volleyball. Your thighs, Father.” He rolls his hips against them. “There’s no denying of them. No denying of how good they can make me feel.”

Atsumu’s lip quivers. His resolve is wavering and Shinsuke knows it. Feels it. Sees it in the way his hands shake, in the way his knees buckle. The tremor of his heart could not be loud enough for the demon to hear, but he knows. But there is no glory in sending a man like him into delirion. Looking at the priest, closed in on himself and ridding the demon away, does not satisfy Shinsuke. There’s nothing to satiate him.

“Pay attention to me,” Shinsuke whispers into Atsumu’s ear, his breath warm against his cheek, as Atsumu sets his gaze upon the lectern, his hands still folded across his lap. “Or do I have to touch you like this?” Atsumu shrugs him away, the slightest shadow of a frown twisting the corners of his lips.

Shinsuke sighs in defeat, taking his hand away from under him. Atsumu’s hips twitch upward, almost instinctual. Almost born out of a moment of pure primal desperation. Shinsuke catches this, his pitch black irises twinkling in delight. “I can feel that, Father. I can tell how much you want me. Tell me ya want me the same way I want ya. Be a good boy for me.”

The choir begins to stand up once more. Atsumu dares to look up at the demon on top of his lap. He lets out a weak sob, almost a whimper, at the absence of his weight on him. Atsumu is a weak, weak man. Depraved and immoral. They know this. They know this. He feels a lump in his throat as he clutches the string of beads around his throat, his repose found once more in the knotted cord as he counts the beads.

The monastery had taught him no good. All of those years had been spent withering away in his solitary little cell, only for him to come out empty-handed in the presence of such a temptingly beautiful, aggravatingly captivating creature like him. Like this one, like Kita Shinsuke, the man who had died long ago and came back in his dreams. He had resurfaced in the deepest pit of Atsumu’s stomach, materializing himself out of the blood swirling inside his veins. It feels almost as though Shinsuke had been born from his deepest desires. It’s almost as though wanting Shinsuke is second nature.

Atsumu crosses his fingers across his forehead and chest, three fingers clenched together, and starts reciting a prayer against demonic presences. Fallen angels, maybe. A bishop he had looked up to in his childhood had spent day and night teaching him countless prayers. To protect himself from evil, to protect his brother from sickness. He had wound a golden medallion around Osamu’s neck back then, then a matching one to his, to ensure both of their safety once Atsumu leaves his younger brother to answer his calling and Osamu comes back to Hyogo to establish his own onigiri shop. Back then, Atsumu had never doubted his faith in his omnipresent God.

“Father,” Shinsuke murmurs against his neck, “is this really what ya want to happen? Oh, how could ya be so stubborn?” He looks down at the priest, his figure still imposing in spite of him being inches smaller than the priest, his hands thinner and more nimble. His hands look beautiful and the priest has always known this. When he was still living, all Atsumu could ever think of was circling his fingers around his wrist, holding him until he was sure that his hand would break into pieces.

“Forgive me,” Atsumu says. His voice breaks on the words and Shinsuke heaves a sigh once more, his warm breath fanning against the priest’s cold skin. The demon brushes his parted lips across Atsumu’s neck, pressing the weight of his hands against his eyelids, his fingers brushing against every inch of Atsumu’s face. He fills him with his presence, brimming with sacrilege, then leaves him hanging for more.


End file.
